Post Punk - Gord - Aspoet
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Gord

2018-03-02 07:08 am
She lives for tomorrow, folding;
Sight static, fight fantastic.
Not matters you, me, or belief,
Our forevers spent grieving,
but of a might, life traveled.
Snapping, chatting of pictures,
Scared of the aperture, focus,
Not the fools and hocus pocus.

Yang sits riverside singing,
What a life quaint, dyed.
Painting faint inner lies,
Things remissed never vied,
Another sister left behind,
Another brother lost to time,
Benefactor earth,
Loss to files, binaries,
Tyrannies, buying, surprises.
Redacted is worth,
Prose, everything vibrant.
Observers know of likeness,
Sequel to the Mona Lisa,
Pious only to feeling.

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